Face It
by Big J Bonk
Summary: (Part 10 of Perfect AU) During a competitive arcade hangout, Rad challenges P.K.O. to take on The Face of Fear. Unfortunately, being a fusion has some unforeseen consequences within the game, giving P.K.O. far more than he bargained for. Oneshot. Now with official cover.


**Here we are with part 10 of the Perfect AU! This is getting to be a pretty big project, eh? Not counting this, I've written close to 50k words. That's a lot. :O**

 **This story is fairly average length as far as the series has gone. Also, this one offers very little to the AU as a whole. It's mostly just a concept that popped into my head, similarly to Quarters. Except Quarters actually led to some sort of development. I guess this one does touch on some character dynamics? Well, if you're here for the more plot-relevant stories, this one is totally skippable.**

 **If you've decided to read anyway, then I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Wait a minute. So you mean to tell me you've _never_ had an arcade buddy?!"

It was a pretty slow day at Gar's bodega. The New Years sale had happened days ago, and snow had been accumulating since at least a week before that. It seemed that people preferred to stay indoors or build snowmen in their yards than loiter in an air-conditioned convenience store. Even Voxmore had been rather quiet. As such, Enid was napping at the counter, leaving Rad and P.K.O. to discuss the latter's social inexperience.

"Never," P.K.O. replied, shaking his head. "On my days out, I'm either here or at school. I haven't really had the chance to do normal kid stuff."

"Alright, that's it. I'm taking you to the arcade."

"That sounds great," said P.K.O., "but I don't think T.K.O. will want to trade days with me. He watches his TV marathons on Saturdays, and Sundays are his spar-and-makeover days."

"Then don't trade days," Rad answered simply. "We can go right now, just let me see if I can fish some refund coins out of the POW card machine."

"Wait, now? We're supposed to be working, Rad!"

"No one's here, so we're already not working," Rad reasoned. "I'm sure Enid can watch the store for a couple hours while we go and do something productive with our time."

"You're a terrible influence, Rad, trying to convince a kid to ditch work and slack off," P.K.O. deadpanned. "But I'm bored out of my mind, and you make a convincing argument. Let's do it."

"Alright!" Rad cheered, pumping a fist and pulling P.K.O. in the direction of the exit. "You're in charge, Enid! We'll get you a small toy or something!"

When the sliding doors closed, Enid startled awake. "Snrrk, huh?"

(~)

The walk to the arcade was extremely short, being only a couple doors down from the bodega. To P.K.O., though, it felt like forever; despite only having been there himself once, it was one of his favorite places, and the thought of having the opportunity to go left him vibrating with excitement.

Once the pair were inside, P.K.O. breathed in, taking in the unique scent of cheap plastic and stale popcorn. Even though it had only been a few months, the flashing lights and blaring sound effects were oddly nostalgic.

"Take it in," Rad said wistfully. "This is where you go to spend ten technos to waste an hour of your life for a two-techno prize. There's nothing quite like it. It's amazing, isn't it?"

"I've been here before, Rad," P.K.O. huffed with a quiet laugh.

"Wait, really? I thought you said you'd never been to an arcade."

"No, I said I'd never gone with anyone," P.K.O. replied. "I came here right after meeting you, actually."

"Oh yeah, I remember that! I think you were yelling at me about lightning nachos, for some reason?"

That got a real laugh out of P.K.O. "Nah, that was T.K.O. So, what game do you want to get your butt kicked at?"

"You're pretty cocky for someone who's only gamed once," Rad smirked. "You realize I hold almost every record and high score at this arcade, right?"

"Huh, really? Because I distinctly remember entering my initials at M. Elodie."

"Oh, it is _so_ on."

And so began their competition. They took turns choosing games, and did their best to outscore or out-ticket the other. P.K.O. discovered that Rad dominated at rhythm games like Super Dance Party Mania Revolution 201X, while the fusion excelled when it came to precision games. Still, the two found themselves evenly matched; while Rad did in fact own some high scores, his claim was, as it turned out, a huge exaggeration.

Eventually, the sun started setting at around 5:30, so they decided it was about time to call it quits. However, they had each won six games, which could only mean one thing. "We need a tiebreaker," Rad insisted.

"Okay," P.K.O. agreed. "How about some good old-fashioned skee-ball?"

"You picked the last one, dude," Rad frowned. "It's my turn to pick."

"Alright then. Which game do you want me to win?"

Rad crossed his arms, curling a finger around his chin and humming to himself as he scanned the arcade for a game they hadn't played yet. Finally, he found the one he wanted, eyes narrowing with mischief. "Well, how are you feeling about... The Face of Fear?"

P.K.O.'s confident smirk plummeted. "...Um, maybe something else?"

"What? Are you _scared?_ " Rad taunted.

"No, I'm not scared," P.K.O. pouted. "It's just that... Well, I'm not sure how the game will react to the three of us."

"What are you talking about? It was fine when K.O. did it."

"That wasn't even K.O.'s fear," the fusion countered. He didn't wait for Rad to respond. "The game got it wrong, and that was just with T.K.O. in there. Now that I'm here, it could mess the whole game up. Or worse, I could get stuck in it forever!"

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" Rad commented. "So what if it shows you something you're not really afraid of or whatever? That just makes you more likely to win, doesn't it? You should be jumping at the bit."

P.K.O. rolled his eyes. "Rad, not _everything_ is about winning."

"Oh, so you concede defeat?"

"Hey, I never said that!"

"Then show me you're not afraid of some dumb old machine."

"Fine!" P.K.O. huffed, storming up to the game. "I'll show you who's a winner. I'll even beat it without screaming or flinching or anything, you'll see!"

"Heh, whatever you say, little dude."

Once P.K.O. approached The Face of Fear, however, he hesitated, his determined scowl faltering. High above his head, the monster snarled with fake wooden teeth, growling out a challenge. Steeling his nerves once more, P.K.O. slid his POW card into the machine, sitting down and lowering the helmet over his head before he could change his mind.

"Here goes nothing," he murmured.

P.K.O. sat there, waiting for the game to load. And waiting. And waiting. But everything stayed pitch black. At first, P.K.O. thought that someone must have tripped over the game's cord and unplugged it by mistake. Just as he was starting to consider taking the helmet off to investigate, risks be darned, he heard quiet breathing not far in front of him. It was soft and even, but he could hear a tremble on the exhale. It sounded like someone trying not to cry.

P.K.O. extended his glow, just barely illuminating the darkness around him. In front of him sat K.O., seemingly in a meditative state, if not for the fact that his eyes were wide open. The two were in what appeared to be a metallic box, less than ten feet wide. They could touch the ceiling if they reached for it. There were no doors or windows to be seen.

"K.O.?" P.K.O. asked in confusion. "What are you doing here? Where are we?"

"I don't know," K.O. replied, his voice shaking. "We're trapped, and I can't figure out how to get out."

P.K.O. realized, then, that the game had it wrong, just as he'd expected. He wasn't afraid of the dark or of small spaces, but K.O. was afraid of both of those things, especially put together. So the game must have transported them both into K.O.'s fear. That was fine; that meant that he had help.

Determined, P.K.O. felt around the floor and walls, looking for a seam, but finding none. However, the walls groaned, drawing in just the slightest amount, and K.O. gasped. The room was getting smaller.

"Hey, see if you can help me punch through this," P.K.O. instructed him. K.O. nodded and got to his feet, the pair punching, kicking, and throwing energy blasts at the walls. They didn't leave so much as a dent, and the walls only came closer. They had about six feel remaining, and P.K.O. could feel his hair brushing against the ceiling.

"Maybe there's someone outside," he said, pushing down his growing anxiety. "If we try calling for help, someone might be able to rescue us."

"...Yeah, it's worth a shot," K.O. agreed, swallowing thickly. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called, "Hey, someone, help us!"

"Can anybody hear us?!" P.K.O. shouted, mimicking the gesture. They waited a few seconds, but there was no response. They were down to four feet, forced to huddle near each other in the increasingly cramped space.

"We can't get out," K.O. gasped. "We're trapped. What do we do?!"

"Just breathe and try to calm down," P.K.O. told him. "We'll think of a way out, we just need to keep our heads on our shoulders."

K.O. nodded once more, face set in a firm pout, but his confidence was short-lived. As they watched, P.K.O.'s aura began to grow dimmer and dimmer. Alarmed, P.K.O. tried to bring it back, but as much as he tried to intensify it, it only became weaker. The shadows in the corners crept closer, making the box appear even smaller. Within seconds, the darkness had swallowed them entirely.

No sooner had the last bit of light ebbed away than K.O. started frantically slapping at the nearest wall, soon beating his fist against it. But the room quickly became too small for him to do even that, crushing him against his cyan counterpart. "Someone, help us!" he wailed. "Please, let us out!"

"K.O., that's not helping!" P.K.O. yelled. "There's no one out there! Nobody is going to help us!" At his words, K.O. hiccuped, giving up on calling for help and instead drawing into himself as much as he could in the limited space, sniffling pitifully.

"Okay, sorry, that was too harsh," P.K.O. admitted with a grimace. "But look. Right now we're in a videos game, right? That means we don't have to escape at all. We just need to tough it out. Once we calm down, the exit's going to appear, and then we can get out of here."

Briefly, it struck P.K.O. that he wasn't feeling the rush of secondhand panic that he would have expected in a situation like this, but the thought was put out of his mind when K.O. sniffled once more, giving him a watery smile he couldn't see. "Yeah, you're right! I just gotta be brave, and we'll be out of here in no time!"

After that proclamation, P.K.O. was expecting to have to wait a few seconds for the exit to appear, but instead it materialized immediately, cascading the room, which had grown to accommodate it, in a soft blue light. Well, K.O. _did_ have a high fear resistance score, P.K.O. supposed.

"It's the way out!" the fusion exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Let's get out of here!"

"Right behind you!" K.O. chirped. So P.K.O. pushed the door open, K.O. to his back.

P.K.O. was quite disoriented when, instead of being met with a congratulatory screen, he found himself walking out of the bodega. the fusion squinted, using his forearm to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. However, it took him only a moment to realize that what was blinding him wasn't sunlight.

The entire plaza was on fire. In some places the flames were mere embers, but in others they reached higher than the buildings. Said structures were almost completely obliterated, barely staying upright. Many had been entirely reduced to rubble. Several sizable craters dotted the ground, a few of them housing unconscious heroes. At least, P.K.O. hoped they were just unconscious. K.O. was nowhere to be seen.

Hoping to figure out what was going on, the fusion nudged the nearest fallen hero, Joe Cuppa. "Sir, do you know what happened here?" The man groaned in response, but didn't get up. P.K.O. moved on, eventually finding Mr. Gar. The man didn't even stir.

Frustrated and fairly concerned, P.K.O. wandered around the smoldering plaza, but aside from the occasional downed plaza-goer, the place was completely deserted. With a growing sense of dread, P.K.O. realized that he was witnessing yet another fear.

 _Of course. It couldn't have been just the one, could it..._

The fusion perked up when he heard enraged yelling, clearly feminine. He ran towards the source of the sound, finding himself near Teen Alley. Within, he could see Red Action, firing her arm cannon into the sky with seemingly reckless abandon, her other arm protectively hovering in front of Potato. P.K.O. couldn't make out Red's yells, but he could see that she was terrified.

Faster than his eyes could follow, something dark flitted by, striking Potato as it passed. Her head snapped to the side, and she collapsed without a sound. Red had no time to react before she was struck as well, the being coming straight down on top of her, the impact creating a fresh crater. This time, the thing lingered just long enough for P.K.O. to get a good look.

The creature had to be close to his height, and just about as stocky. Its ink-black form constantly wavered, holding its general shape but always quivering. Its eyes glowed white, harsh like spotlights. As it darted into the air in a streak of violet, P.K.O.'s eyes went wide as he recognized the familiar figure.

 _T.K.O.?_

After making sure that Red and Potato were okay- not that there was any need, since they weren't real- P.K.O. took to the sky, looking around in an attempt to find the shadowy doppelganger. There was no sign of him. So P.K.O. made a stupid decision.

"Hey T.K.O.! Where are you?!"

There he was, over by the demolished DVD store. T.K.O. stopped mid-flight, his eyes locked onto P.K.O. Baring his razor-sharp teeth, he charged.

Not expecting such a sudden attack, P.K.O. took the full force of the blow, rocketing towards the ground and making an impact crater of his own. Unlike the rest of the plaza's victims, however, he was able to roll away before the next attack came, T.K.O.'s foot embedding itself in the ground right where P.K.O.'s head had been. The fusion scrambled to his feet, and this time he was prepared when T.K.O. charged again, the two locking hands as they struggled to overpower one another. "T.K.O., what are you doing?! What happened to you?!"

But the alter didn't reply. Instead, he stopped pushing and _pulled,_ tossing P.K.O. over his head. T.K.O. followed up with a Power Fist volley, but P.K.O. quickly righted himself, swerving around the energy blasts with an ease that distantly surprised him. He managed to get close, blocking T.K.O.'s right hook with his forearm. "You have to stop this! Look what you're doing to the plaza!"

His words fell on deaf ears. With a ferocious roar, T.K.O. used his left arm to deliver a devastating uppercut to P.K.O.'s torso, leaving him winded. Seizing his opportunity, T.K.O. landed blow after blow, giving the fusion no time to recover. Finally, T.K.O. gripped him by the shoulders, threw his head back, and headbutted him with all the force he could muster. P.K.O. crumpled, dazed and defeated. After that, T.K.O. didn't spare him another thought, taking off to wreak more havoc on the plaza.

Even after P.K.O. had regained his bearings, he continued to lay there. Everything _hurt._ He'd always wondered what it was like to take one of T.K.O.'s legendary onslaughts, but now he was left wishing he'd never known. It kind of sucked.

But T.K.O. was no longer attacking him, so he had time to ponder over what he was supposed to be doing. It was pretty obvious that this wasn't his own fear; the destruction of everything and everyone he'd ever loved was definitely up there, but it wasn't the big one. And since he'd already faced K.O.'s fear, that only left T.K.O.'s. But that didn't make any sense, because T.K.O. himself was the one terrorizing the plaza.

"...Cob, I am such an _idiot,_ " P.K.O. muttered. T.K.O., playing the bad guy in his own fear? It was so obvious in hindsight, but at least now he knew what he needed to do.

P.K.O. got to his feet, shaking his head to clear away the last of the stars in his vision. He took flight once more, and this time T.K.O. was much easier to find. He'd cornered Brandon against the front of the iFrame store, the bear on his knees with his hands clasped in front of him. T.K.O. advanced, despite his begging.

"T.K.O., stop!" P.K.O. yelled, landing feet away. "You don't want to do this!"

T.K.O. froze. Slowly, he turned his head, expression unreadable through the black smog that composed him. Hoping that he was somehow getting through, P.K.O. continued. "I know you better than anyone else, and I know you would never do this. So let him go."

For the first time, T.K.O. responded. "You don't know anything. Look around you. This is all my doing."

"None of this is real, T.K.O."

"But it could be!" the alter shouted, his form rippling. "I've done it before, haven't I? And I'll probably do it again! That's all I'm really good for, isn't it?!"

"Let Brandon go," P.K.O. said in lieu of a reply.

T.K.O. spluttered. "W-What? Did you even hear a word I just said? I'm the bad guy, remember?!"

"A real bad guy wouldn't care," P.K.O. told him simply, "and I know for a fact that you do. So let Brandon go. And let's be honest, if you can find it in yourself to not hit _him,_ then you've probably got the willpower to not hit anyone else, either."

"H-H-H-Hey!" Brandon blubbered.

T.K.O. glanced back and forth between Brandon and P.K.O., looking more and more distraught. But eventually, he reached his conclusion, giving Brandon a firm glare. He stepped back, and the bear immediately took the opportunity and ran.

When Brandon escaped, T.K.O. changed. The black substance around him rose and dispersed, revealing the ordinary boy underneath. As it did, the surrounding flames extinguished themselves, and the bits of rubble pieced themselves together to reform the buildings. In a matter of seconds, the plaza was as good as new, with heroes milling about like nothing had happened. Where Brandon had been kneeling, the gleaming exit appeared, opening of its own accord.

P.K.O. blinked. He'd really been expecting a lot more fuss from T.K.O. But they could talk more later. Right then, he wanted out of that stupid game. With a relieved grin, P.K.O. ran into the light...

...only to end up in complete darkness. P.K.O. nearly wailed aloud. It just figured that that wouldn't have been the end. The pitch black seemed familiar; could he have ended up back in K.O.'s fear? _If this game has me stuck in a loop, I swear to Cob that I'm screaming for Rad to unplug me so that I can fall into a coma, wake up in five or ten years, and demand a refund._

P.K.O. tried expanding his aura so that he could see the box he was trapped in, but to no avail. In fact, it seemed that he didn't have an aura to begin with. Well, it had eventually died out last time. Maybe this was just the game's way of keeping him from cheating.

If he couldn't see his way around, then he could at least _feel_ his way around. He reached a hand upwards where he knew the ceiling was low enough to reach, but was surprised to be met with empty air. Mentally frowning, he tried standing on his toes, but quickly found that he couldn't. It was almost like he didn't have any toes to stand on. Actually, he couldn't feel his feet at all. Or his hands. Or much of anything, for that matter. It was almost like his body didn't...

P.K.O. shook his head, or at least he thought he did. There was no motion, no breeze on his cheeks. _This isn't K.O.'s. This is something different._

But he needed to be sure. P.K.O. took in a large breath, and shouted at the top of his lungs, " _HELLO?!_ " But there was no breath, no movement, and no sound. There was nothing. With that, P.K.O. knew for certain.

He was finally facing his own fear.

P.K.O. quashed down his rapidly building panic. _This is fine, it's just a game. This isn't real. If this was real, I wouldn't be able to feel anything, right? I have K.O. and T.K.O. with me, so it's not like I'm alone here._

The fusion reached deep, deep inside of himself, searching for the connection he knew for a fact was there. If he had been able to help them, it stood to reason that they would be able to help him, too. But... he felt nothing. K.O. would have done his best to reassure him. He didn't. T.K.O. would have trivialized the issue to make it seem less daunting. He didn't. P.K.O. couldn't feel their presence at all. He was truly alone.

As P.K.O. drew into himself as well as one could without a physical form, things that hadn't made sense across the fears he'd faced started to click into place. With K.O., he'd felt a sort of emotional disconnect. None of the dismay he'd felt had come from K.O.; all that was there was his own unease. With T.K.O., he had moved with more fluidity than he was used to. He'd moved exactly as he'd wanted to, without the usual interference from either of his components. And the way both of their fears had been so easily conquered? K.O. he could understand, but T.K.O. had a bad habit of dwelling on his problems, and there was no way P.K.O.'s words alone would have dispelled them. Their reactions hadn't felt real, because _they_ hadn't been real.

And that was just it, wasn't it? That everything had been one big, elaborate fabrication. K.O. and T.K.O. weren't real, their interactions weren't real, and the experiences weren't real. None of it had been. And what about P.K.O.?

That's right. He wasn't real either, was he? A real person wasn't secluded in someone else's brain, and a real person didn't rely on someone else just to _be._ P.K.O. was a fusion, though he wanted to be so, _so_ much more than that. He wanted to be _himself._ But something like that wasn't possible for him. He was an amalgamation of their personalities, their emotions, and their memories. Everything that P.K.O. had ever said, done, or felt was a direct result of their influence; even though he had established some sense of independence, he could only experience things through them. Without them, he was nothing. Not a symbolic or metaphorical nothing, either. Without K.O. and T.K.O. there to sustain him...

 _I don't exist._

P.K.O. didn't know how long he remained in that bleak nothingness; time just wasn't the same there. He was alone with his thoughts, though those could never really compare to reality. P.K.O. hated being in his own head. It meant that he wasn't outside of it, that he couldn't interact and confirm what he so strongly wanted to believe. It was always like this, before. Trapped in this torturous hypothetical, with no way to get out of his own volition. His only hope was that K.O. and T.K.O. would remember him and eventually decide to synchronize, to replicate him. Normally, P.K.O. could at least reach out, remind them that he was a possibility, but this time, he felt totally severed from them.

Upon thinking that, P.K.O. felt a fresh wave of resigned misery. He didn't think he'd ever been so isolated before.

 _...They're not coming for me, are they..._

And then he felt something.

It wasn't much, just a tiny, niggling thing in P.K.O.'s subconscious, but he snatched for it like a starved animal, holding it close before it could leave him. It wasn't much of anything, but it was _something._ He focused on it as hard as he could, willing whatever it was to come through.

It was an emotion, a feeling of pure, bubbling joy that couldn't possibly belong to anyone except K.O. P.K.O. let it envelop him, releasing a desperate, silent giggle. After that came something else, and he welcomed that, too. This sensation wasn't nearly as concrete, nor was it as warm, but it pushed the lingering sense of dread to the sidelines, giving P.K.O. room to _think._

What had he been so worried about? They'd made a promise, hadn't they? P.K.O. never had to go to that horrid place ever again. He got to be in the real world, with _them,_ because in the end, he was just as real as they were. Even if he didn't live under the same circumstances, that didn't mean that he didn't experience things just like they did. He just did everything his own way. He liked knitting, he was friends with Bobo, he ate horrible foods with Rad, and he had that one phase where he kept quoting memes even though he didn't understand them. All of that had been _him._ To think he would doubt himself, even for a second!

 _I'm real, and I'm **me.**_

And just like that, P.K.O. could _see._ He could hear, and he could feel the ground beneath his feet. The exit appeared in front of him, and he'd never been so happy to walk through a doorway in his entire life. After that, he saw a prompt to remove his helmet, and he was so overcome with relief he almost cried.

P.K.O. lifted the helmet over his head, releasing a slow puff of air. " _Finally,_ " he groaned. "I thought that was never going to end." He removed his POW card from the machine, turning to face Rad. "Sorry I took so long. It's your turn."

The alien just stood there, staring slack-jawed at the screen. "Dude, you just took on more than one fear. There's no way I can top that!" He leaned closer to inspect the game. "...Even if you did only beat it on medium."

"What?! Medium?!" P.K.O. gasped, disbelieving. He took a glance for himself, then threw up his hands. "All that, and I'd been playing on medium?! Urgh, whatever. I better have gotten some good fear res for that." He swiped across his card, quickly finding his score. "Eleven. Could be worse, I guess..." He looked at Rad again. "You gonna play or what?"

"What's even the point?" Rad lamented. "I can only play it once. You just beat it twice! Or was it three times? It was pretty dark at the end, I thought the game had crashed for a second there."

P.K.O. grimaced. "No, it was three. So if you're not playing The Face of Fear, we have to play something else, because it doesn't count as a win if you don't play."

"Nah, let's just get our prizes and get out of here," said Rad. "We've been here a while already, and I know Enid's gonna be mad when we get back. Better to just get it over with, we can break our tie another time."

"Wow, Rad. How responsible," P.K.O. teased.

Rad flushed a luminous pink. "What?! No, I just don't want her to stop covering shifts for us, that's all!"

"Whatever you say, Mister Rad-sponsible."

"Ugh!"

Ten minutes later, the two were leaving with their winnings, P.K.O. holding a moderately-sized toy dinosaur and a stuffed bunny (for Enid), and Rad with several large lollipops shoved into his mouth. As much fun as he'd had at the arcade, P.K.O. swore that he was never going to so much as _look_ at The Face of Fear ever again.

Pretty soon, the two made it back to the bodega, where an irate Enid and a furiously beet-red Mr. Gar were waiting for them. " _RAD! P.K.O.!_ I am very disappointed in the BOTH OF YOU!"

The pair exchanged a look, Rad swallowing nervously. "Whoops."

* * *

 **And there you have it. Rad rubs off on P.K.O. just a little too much. I guess that's what happens when T.K.O.'s pride meshes with K.O.'s friendly accommodation. Also, calling out past writing errors like a boss.**

 **I tried my best to base K.O. and T.K.O.'s fears on events throughout both canon and the AU. For K.O., he's been in so many claustrophobic situations (trapped in a Junkfish, eaten by Chameleon Sr., being stuck in the break room with glitches, every T.K.O. situation ever until "T.K.O.'s House," you get it), there's no way that he DOESN'T have an aversion to cramped spaces. For T.K.O., it was originally crowds (see Make Up), but after realizing what he really was, it basically became "inevitably becoming a villain."**

 **P.K.O.'s fear is a little more complex. As I've mentioned, if K.O. and T.K.O. aren't synchronized, he doesn't exist. He's just gone. I kind of think of P.K.O. similarly to a Steven Universe fusion, and one thing I've wondered is what happens to a fusion's identity when their components split. Take Garnet, for example. When Ruby and Sapphire unfuse, what happens to Garnet? Does she exist in them separately, or is she just gone? Is she stuck in some sort of limbo? Well, regardless, P.K.O.'s worst fear isn't so much being stuck like that, as much as what he interprets it to mean. It trivializes his identity as himself, and makes him question whether or not his thoughts or actions are even his. He starts to doubt himself as an individual and as an actual, existing entity. I actually had to make up a word to sum up his fear because I couldn't find a word that fit: autonihilophobia. Basically, it's the fear of being or becoming nothing. In P.K.O.'s case, though, it's more of a "resigned misery" fear than a "panicked freakout" one.**

 **Anyone else watch Change Your Mind? What an absolutely beautiful episode. I kept thinking about The James Baxter Scene when writing P.K.O.'s little self-motivational bit.**

 **Once again, if you have questions about the AU, you can send me an ask on Tumblr at bigjbonk. If you have questions for the boys, they're at askthreekaios. The blog and these fics are interconnected, so references to the fics can be found on the blog, and vice versa. See if you can catch a couple of them here!**

 **The next oneshot will be T.K.O.-centric, and will probably be a little bit shorter. Hope you're ready for a seldom-seen character that I've never tried to write before! ;v;)b**


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